


(Where) Soul Meets Body

by SeaCollectsRivers (IrishSkumring)



Category: Black Sails
Genre: (unintentional), Acceptance, Author is trans, Coming Out, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Insecurity, M/M, Misgendering, Multi, Other, Pre-Canon, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27845203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrishSkumring/pseuds/SeaCollectsRivers
Summary: Miranda is uncharacteristically uncomfortable in her clothes and her body, shying away from James when he attempts to comfort her.(Miranda is genderfluid, and after an evening filled with dysphoria decides to tell James, who is so full of love for his Hamiltons).-James saw Thomas repeatedly throw her worried glances, a question in his eyes, only for Miranda to smile and shake her head minutely. Frowning, James studied her. James had precious little knowledge of women’s fashion, but he knew enough now to see she was wearing a softer jump as opposed to her usual stiff, shaping stay; she was curiously bundled up, with a handkerchief around her neck covering her chest, and another scarf hanging off her elbows which she frequently gripped and huddled into, as if she wanted to hide herself. James could feel his jaw tensing in worry as he observed Miranda, how she smiled politely but never engaged in conversation, how she kept as away from the light as possible.
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/Thomas Hamilton, Miranda Barlow & Captain Flint | James McGraw & Thomas Hamilton, Miranda Barlow & Thomas Hamilton, Miranda Barlow/Captain Flint | James McGraw, Miranda Barlow/Captain Flint | James McGraw/Thomas Hamilton
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	(Where) Soul Meets Body

**Author's Note:**

> i saw a [post on tumblr](https://calamitys-child.tumblr.com/post/636254188813303808/god-see-now-my-entire-brain-is-going-miranda) about genderfluid Miranda, and as someone who's just about coming to terms with their gender and also love Miranda as a character, it hit me deep! so here, have some gender feelings in fic form :)
> 
> i'm fuddling with the timeline a bit i think, but hopefully not too much. this takes place after Thomas kisses James, and before his salons are essentially dissolved.
> 
> i will say this story is very binary in gender, despite the fluidity. i kind of want to explore more of Miranda's gender, especially as a trans masc ????? myself, but it will have to be a different story from her perspective, instead of James's. 
> 
> [EDIT 5/3/20: small edits for typos and odd sentences]
> 
> enjoy the story!

Sometimes, James was stunned by the beauty of his lovers. It wasn’t just that they were a sight to behold - though they certainly were - it was in the way they carried themselves: ever sure of their place in the world, of their right to exist, to believe, to breathe. It was in Thomas’ gleeful expression when he argued his point at one of his salons, in Miranda’s barely contained sardonic smiles as she spoke unabashedly above what society generally allowed her gender.

It was also their clothes. James had never put much stock in finer clothing. He took pride in his uniform of course, but that had more to do with how much work he had put into obtaining his lieutenant status; he would not lose what respect the title gained him because someone deemed his uniform dissatisfactory. Too often, however, he had seen people of Miranda and Thomas’ status be almost gaudy in their clothing. They showed off their wealth with it, with expensive fabrics, rare jewellery, and a new dress for every occasion. James never got this impression from his lovers. They liked to look good, but they never intentionally held it above people’s heads. Miranda, especially, had always struck James with her brightly coloured dresses, her artfully arranged hair, her matching necklaces and earrings. He enjoyed dressing her as much as he enjoyed taking the clothes off her, and she knew this well enough, sometimes choosing the dress of the day based on how deeply he flushed at the sight of her.

Which was why Miranda’s current mood befuddled him somewhat. It was Thursday, the first of the month, which meant several lords and ladies were gathered at the Hamilton’s for one of Thomas’ salons. Usually Miranda enjoyed these evenings, a chance to make proper use of her clever mind with people who didn’t mind too much that a woman would assert her opinions so decidedly. Tonight, however, she was curiously withdrawn. James saw Thomas repeatedly throw her worried glances, a question in his eyes, only for Miranda to smile and shake her head minutely. Frowning, James studied her. She didn’t appear as elegant as she usually dressed for these salons. James had precious little knowledge of women’s fashion, but as he’d become Miranda’s lover he had slowly become more educated. He knew enough now to see that she was wearing a softer jump as opposed to her usual stiff, shaping stay; she was curiously bundled up, with a handkerchief around her neck covering her chest, and another scarf hanging off her elbows which she frequently gripped and huddled into, as if she wanted to hide herself. It was November, and a cold evening, but the room was warm with fires in the fireplaces, and bodies mingling. James could feel his jaw tensing in worry as he observed Miranda, how she smiled politely but never engaged in conversation, how she kept as away from the light as possible.

He desperately wanted to talk to her, but it was impossible with all these people around. He wanted to hold her hands and ask what the matter was, if there was anything he could do. He hated seeing her like this, without her spark, her laugh. It reminded him too much of her expression after Alfred Hamilton had insulted her that dinner. Both Thomas and Miranda were so splendid, so well made for this world, James sometimes found himself floundering in what his role was supposed to be with them. Eventually he had settled on protector, guard dog, and he felt it growling in him now.

His eyes were caught by Thomas’. Thomas flicked his over to Miranda, and back again to James; _later,_ they seemed to say. And so James waited, impatiently, for the night to be over and the guest to clear out, all the while hovering near Miranda, discouraging anyone from engaging her. He couldn’t tell if she welcomed his presence or not, but she seemed to be grateful for the respite his presence offered.

***

Finally, finally, the last guest had been escorted out and into a carriage. Normally Thomas welcomed anyone who wished to stay behind and continue an interesting discussion, but even he was all but shooing Lord Something-or-other out like an unwanted cat. As soon as the door was closed behind the Lord, and they all three relocated to the drawing room while the servants tidied up after the guests. James sat down beside Miranda. He reached out for her hand, but she drew it to herself, hiding it under her scarf.

«Miranda?»

She flinched. James’s heart sank, unsure what he had done but sure it was him. He opened his mouth, but not knowing what was safe he turned towards Thomas. Thomas, who looked sad but not surprised, sighed minutely, and laid a comforting hand on James’s shoulder.

«James, would you mind giving us the room?» he asked with a squeeze. James swallowed thickly, throwing Miranda another worried look.

«Of course, my Lord,» he answered in a murmur. He stood up, worry and heartache making his movements stiff as he bowed to them both. «Good night,» he said as he walked to the door.

Thomas’ voice stopped him. «James. Please don’t leave, darling. I promise we will talk. Maybe not tonight, but this is not your doing.»

He didn’t turn, but he could hear Thomas was being sincere, and so he willed his heart to keep beating before nodding once. «I’ll wait in the library.»

As he closed the door behind him, he could hear a low, desperate, «Thomas…» that only worked to deepen the pit in his stomach. He took a fortifying breath, reminding himself he was not privy to whatever conversation his lovers would be having on the other side, before he turned and walked towards the Hamilton library. Fortunately a fire was lit, as were several of the candles, lending him ample reading light while he waited. For what, he wasn’t sure - a part of him feared an end to the most fulfilling relationships he had ever experienced, a courteous apology but unambiguous end. Or maybe only Miranda wished to end this thing between them, leaving him in an uncertain position between his lover, and his lover’s wife who no longer considered him in a favourable light.

James tried to read. He wasn’t even sure what book he was holding, had picked one up without looking, and he couldn’t focus enough on the words to untangle their meanings. His head was full of uncertainty and pre-emptive heartbreak, his whole body itching to get up and move, go back to the drawing room and envelop both of his lovers in his arms, to beg forgiveness for whatever slight he’d made towards Miranda.

He shook himself. This wasn’t necessarily about him. Just because they all three shared a bond, none of them were obligated to include him in their troubles and inner lives. Miranda and Thomas were married, had been closest of friends since years before their legal relationship. They knew each other like none other, and just because James wished to huddle inside their minds and know them just as well, just because he felt naked with them as if they knew him better than he knew himself, they had no obligations to him.

 _She is probably just ill_ , he told himself. Her monthlies, maybe - never mind that he had known her on her monthlies, and while painful the first few days she was never morose like she had been now. Maybe the cold weather made her extra sensitive.

He had abandoned the pretence of reading entirely and was gazing out the window by the time the library door opened. He turned quickly and stood up when he saw Thomas. Thomas must have seen the worry in James’s face, for he made a small sound at the back of his throat and took three long strides into the room to enfold James in a tight hug.

«My dearest, you are not at fault here,» Thomas murmured into the side of his head. James let out a deep sigh, feeling the tension he hadn’t even been aware of leaving his shoulders, as he allowed himself to enjoy the tight embrace. After some moments Thomas carefully let go, keeping their hands clasped, and led James to sit down with him on the sofa.

«Is Miranda well?»

Thomas hid it better, but he flinched the same way as Miranda had when James uttered her name. James frowned. An inkling of an idea whispered in the back of his mind, but he dismissed it. He may not have known Miranda as long as Thomas had, but he had known her long enough to see she was nothing like Theo the barkeep. Theo who had left the small Cornish village of James’s childhood in skirts, and returned in breeches and a deeper voice, who carefully maintained his strong arms so he could break the nose of anyone who referred to him by his childhood name. Miranda was nothing like Theo… except for tonight, when she reminded James achingly of Theo-in-skirts, shy and withdrawn and morose.

«I think my… spouse will talk to you, James,» Thomas said. He spoke slowly and carefully picked his words, giving James an intense look he wasn’t sure how to interpret. «I cannot tell you much, it isn’t my story, but you need to… that is, we have a couple of requests of you, darling.»

«Anything, Thomas, of course.»

Thomas smiled warmly, raised a hand to caress James’s jaw. «It may seem a bit odd, and maybe even small, but it is extremely important to us. Do not use Miranda tonight, use Nathaniel. And… and please do not refer to him by feminine pronouns.»

James could feel his eyes widen, even as he willed them not to. So then she truly was…? No, no, he, he truly was. James looked down, licked his lips in contemplation. He could feel Thomas’s hand on his face still. He looked up again, met Thomas’s eyes with a steady gaze. «So I may speak to him now?»

He could see relief flooding into the face of his lover, as Thomas closed his eyes and leaned his forehead on James. «Yes, James. Yes, I imagine he’d be very happy to have a talk with you.»

They kissed, in assurance, in acceptance, in love. A thousand questions floated through James, he wanted to ask Thomas everything before meeting Nathaniel. But no, Thomas had said, it wasn’t his story to tell. It was wholly Nathaniel’s, and it would be unfair to him to take that opportunity from him.

As they parted, Thomas kept him close. «Upstairs, in my bedroom,» he said, before giving James one last peck and letting him go. James held onto his hand for as long as he could before leaving the library, strangely nervous of the conversation to come.

Outside the bedroom, he hesitated. Tried to order his mind, calm it down, put his lover on the forefront. _It is not about me. I have two lovers, and they are beautiful, and one will share his story with me, and it is not about me and I never want to see that look on her-his, on his face, and I love them both so much._ He squared his shoulders, knocked perfunctorily and stepped quietly inside. His eyes moved over the room before landing on a shapeless form on the bed. The form moved as he stepped in, sat up, and James couldn’t help his loving smile. After an evening of tense worry, it was a relief to see his lover hale and well, if a bit guarded.

«James.»

James moved over to kneel by the bed, and gave Mir-Nathaniel, Nathaniel, a careful once-over. It had been easy to switch over when talking with Thomas, but now seeing Nathaniel his mind struggled slightly with the new name and pronouns. James carefully avoided talking until he knew he wouldn’t slip up in front of him, both the memory of Theo’s swift fists and Nathaniel’s sad eyes during the salon keeping his tongue in check.

He made sure to smile and keep eye-contact as he said Nathaniel’s name, his smile only widening as Nathaniel’s expression collapsed into gratefulness. He was under the covers, but had let them fall down enough to reveal what James assumed was one of Thomas’s shirts. His hair was tied back, but not in one of his usual elegant styles, instead arranged more like the queue James often wore. He had none of his usual jewellery on, and underneath the shirt James could glimpse another piece of clothing, apparently designed to flatten his chest.

James reached out a hand, carefully taking enveloping Nathaniel’s, pleased when he immediately laced their fingers together and gave a reassuring squeeze.

«Is this why you were so withdrawn earlier?»

Nathaniel nodded mutely, eyes locked on their joined hands, his thumb stroking over James’s. «How much did Thomas tell you?»

«Not much, only your name. I- There was a boy, a man, in my village. He was the same, I think. Nathaniel, I’m so sorry.»

«What for, darling? You’ve been splendid, more than. I was sure it would take you longer to get used to the idea of me.»

«I had no idea, all these months, I always thought you were. That is, I’ve referred to you as, as, well, as a _woman_.»

Nathaniel was silent. Fear gripped James’s heart, suddenly sure he had misstepped, despite his inner coaching. Frantically he opened his mouth to apologise again, only to be stopped by a deep sigh from the bed.

«I see when you say Thomas told you nothing, you meant _nothing._ Sit beside me, James, I cannot do this with you on the floor.»

James, more confused than ever, stood up. He removed his jacket and boots, fast as he could, before sitting on top of the covers beside Nathaniel, who quickly re-joined their hands. James gave him a hesitant look, even more confused when he saw the smile on his lover’s face.

«I suspect I am not _quite_ like the man you knew in Cornwall. These past months, when you have said Miranda,» said without flinching, James noted, «I have been Miranda. I still am, I suppose, but some days I am more a Nathaniel. And knowing no one sees me as such, only sees my chest and my dresses and think _Miranda, Lady Hamilton_ , it… hurts, in a curious way. But only some days. Others I revel in it, I love being a woman, I love how people view me, whether in judgement of my actions and attitude or not.»

James frowned, silent in response, mulling over this new idea.

«James—»

«I am not angry!» he rushed to assure him, needing Nathaniel to know he was only thinking, not judging. Nathaniel smiled, and he looked so much like the person James remembered before tonight. The same spark, the same joy. James was yet again reduced to marvelling at his lover's beauty.

«I didn’t think you were,» Nathaniel said. «I only wanted to say I’m sorry I never told you earlier. I thought I could handle the salon, I said as much to Thomas, but somehow knowing you thought of me as a woman tonight made it infinitely worse to bear than knowing everyone else there did.»

James stared at him. He wanted to say there was no need to apologise, never apologise, _Know no shame_ echoing through his head, but his mind was stuck at the last part. He lifted their joined hands and carefully kissed Nathaniel’s knuckles. «How so?»

Nathaniel sighed, rubbed a hand over his chest in what James recognised as a thinking habit, much like how Nathaniel as a woman would clasp her hands behind her back and chew the inside of her mouth. «The others I can think of as mere background actors in a comedy. These silly people who do not recognise me as me, who say _my lady_ and _she_. I can think them stupid and boring, and laugh at them with Thomas after. You… You’re important to me, James. You are as close to my heart as Thomas, and I could not abide being a false image in your mind.»

«Nathaniel,» James sighed, a prayer, an assurance, and cupped his face. «May I kiss you?»

Nathaniel huffed a wet laugh, and leaned forward to kiss him in reply.

***

They spent some time like this, talking in low tones and trading kisses. James asked questions, more and more freely as Nathaniel assured him he would not be offended, because James loved him and he knew this. It reminded James of the early days with Thomas, of his insecurities in the face of Thomas’s experience. After a while James had divested of his waistcoat as well, and sunk lower into the bed until he was laying in Nathaniel’s arms, tracing a finger up and down the one wrapped around his chest. A quiet knock on the door silenced them, only to smile twin smiles as Thomas ducked his head in.

«Ah, well, if this isn’t a sight. I take it your talk went well?»

«It did, husband. As you said it would,» came from Nathaniel, and James could hear the fond but exasperated smile in his voice.

«Yes, I did, didn’t I?» smiled Thomas, as he ducked down to kiss them both. «Now I hate to destroy the lovely image you make, but would you move over a fraction and make room for another?»

They both rolled their eyes, but did as he asked, and soon James was surrounded by warm bodies, with the arms of both Thomas and Nathaniel slung over his middle.

«Have you shown James your collection of suits, dear?» Thomas asked. James looked up at Nathaniel, heart quickening at the thought.

«No, I’m afraid we’ve spent all this time in bed. I am feeling rather refreshed, though.» He gave James a contemplative look, a smile slowly widening as he took in the blush James could feel spreading on his face. With a wink he got up and clambered over Thomas and James. James felt the blush depleting as his blood went southward - Nathaniel wasn’t just wearing one of Thomas’s shirts, he was also clad in glorious breeches. He could feel Thomas looking at him, and groaned quietly as he buried his face in Thomas’s chest. Thomas only laughed, the bastard.

«James,» Thomas said in his ear, «look up, dear-heart.» James did as he was bid, and his mind went blank. Before them, by the bed, stood Nathaniel. James knew his hair had been pulled back but he hadn’t truly appreciated the way the new hairstyle changed his face, subtly. The way Nathaniel had a different way of holding himself, with his flattened chest and billowing shirt tucked into some perfectly-fitted breeches. Just like when he’s a woman, Nathaniel knows how he looks, the effect he has on James. James can tell from his smirk and raised eyebrow.

«Stay where you are, darlings. James,» James looked up, heart beating like a drum, «do not touch either yourself or Thomas until I am back. Do you understand?»

James swallowed. «Yes, sir.» At his words, Nathaniel closed is eyes and gasped quietly. He gave James a hooded look and slowly licked his lips, before smiling again and slipping out the door connecting his and Thomas’s rooms. As soon as the door closed again, James let his head drop back on the pillow and flung an arm over his eyes. He groaned as he felt Thomas nosing under his ear, licking a spot he knew drove James mad.

«You will both be the death of me, Lord Hamilton.»

He could feel Thomas chuckle against his throat, and couldn’t help his own answering grin. It wasn’t a bad way to go, surrounded by self-assured beautiful partners.

**Author's Note:**

> about halfway through i had the thought of Uh Oh James is making this about himself!! but he doesn't mean to, he just has some deep-seated insecurities, born both from the difference in class between him and the Hamiltons, and sexuality stuff. 
> 
> this was a hard one mostly because of the time period and the lack of terminology i'm used to. i've another gender-centric historical fic, a Holmes one, and that one was easier purely because it was working with a binary trans man. i'm kind of worried i've made it seem like they think of Miranda and Nathaniel as two separate people, when that's not my intention. let me know what you think!
> 
>  **on relationships:** in my personal hc (though, it doesn't really appear much in this i don't think?) Miranda is allosexual-aromantic. she _loves_ her boys, but not romantically. her and Thomas are close partners emotionally and each other's best friends and closest confidants, but I don't think they're sexually attracted to each other. they may have sex occasionally, for closeness and maybe with a shared lover, in the same vein that some ace people are very happy to have sex with their partner even if they're not sexually attracted to them. (i'm aroace myself, for the record!).


End file.
